The air in the city was, as Adrien had said, remarkably clean and fresh. The storm had washed away the usual grime and dust, leaving the cobblestone streets glistening like dark, wet jewels. The sky was a brilliant, cloudless blue, and the sun was warm on her skin, a welcome contrast to the bone-deep chill she'd carried for so long.
They walked, a small, odd group, through the bustling city. Adrien was at her side, his presence a quiet, steady comfort. Merwyn, in his usual dramatic flair, had conjured a small, shimmering, pink parasol to shield his pale skin from the sun, and strolled along with a graceful, almost floating gait. Mia had turned to her human form, Stella, and walked a few paces ahead, her brown hair gleaming in the sunlight, her posture stiff and indignant, as if she were still offended by the morning's events.
